


of juice boxes and nail polish

by necklace



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Families of Choice, Family Fluff, M/M, Nail Polish, his children are a handful but he loves them all, kusanagi gets to Rest, nothing bad ever happens to tatara and mikoto lmao isnt that great
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 21:02:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10884885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necklace/pseuds/necklace
Summary: a soft moment with kusanagi, his weird boyfriend, and their adopted kid. set in-universe.---He lets his eyes close.This is catastrophic for several reasons.





	of juice boxes and nail polish

**Author's Note:**

> i had a Need for these two soulwrecks (soulmate trainwrecks)

Mikoto stares up at him with big eyes where he's sitting on the floor, trying desperately to look innocent as Izumo stands over him in the middle of his bar.

 

"What do you think you're doing?" He asks. Both of his arms are crossed tightly over his chest, but Mikoto doesn't look too concerned; sipping on a juice box (where did he even get a juice box?) seems to be his excuse for taking his time in chugging through to an answer that'll satisfy Izumo the most.

 

Anna, currently, has Mikoto's hand in her lap as she attempts to paint his nails bright red.

 

Mikoto blinks. Izumo wonders briefly if there's anything actually going on in his head or if the lights are on and no one's home.

 

Several seconds tick by without an answer, and Mikoto finishes the juice box with an irritating, elongated _slurp_.

 

"Anna is making me pretty."

 

Izumo squints. With the blue tint in his glasses, Mikoto has always looked a little more purple than red, but now is Different. Everything screams red, from the way his hair is pinned back and down flat with red hair clips, one singular red ponytail desperately clinging to the hair above his left ear, red nails. Izumo almost doesn't want to think about how the next step is red lipstick.

 

The thing is, though, this isn't... _Bad_. Mikoto knows this. Anna probably knows this. Wherever Tatara is, he probably knows this as well and will still give Mikoto shit for it when he comes back.

 

"And why, pray tell, are you doing this on the floor in my bar?"

 

Mikoto shrugs. It's nothing more than a twitch of his shoulders, but Izumo sighs anyway, directing his attention to the child currently attempting to get Mikoto's thumb from clumping around a stray piece of fallen hair.

 

"Anna. Do you mind not doing this on the floor? If I put some paper down you can sit at a table, or the couch," Izumo reasons. He uncrosses his arms to squat down next to his King.

 

(One of his knees pops on the way down. Somewhere by the counter, Misaki snorts.)

 

Anna finishes with the nail dutifully without even looking up at him, holding Mikoto's hand up to her eyes to inspect the other four nails halfway dried by now. He's loathe to admit that they actually look pretty good.

 

Izumo watches her inspect the nails for a few more seconds, then idly drags his gaze up to the ridiculous pins in Mikoto's hair. He's tempted to pat down some of the wry red strands sticking up on end, but Mikoto is looking at him like he _knows_ Izumo is thinking about it, so he keeps his hands to himself and turns his attention back to Anna.

 

He doesn't really expect her to answer now that she's semi-capped her nail polish, but she lets Mikoto have his hand back and turns to finally look up at him.

 

"It's your turn."

 

A pause, then, "No?"

 

(It shouldn't have turned out like a question. God _damn it_ – )

 

"Yes. Mikoto is done, and now it's your turn."

 

If Yata wasn't laughing before he is now, so Izumo sends a sharp glare over his shoulder where the vanguard is half-wheezing into his mug of – something. Izumo subtly hopes it's coffee.

 

When he turns back, Mikoto is looking at him. His face hasn't changed much, but with both hands in his lap and the monstrosity that's his hair at the moment, he almost looks pretty. And definitely still lethal, despite the knots Izumo will have to help brush out later. This should not be hot in any way, shape or form, and yet here he is, thinking about those hands with red nail polish wrapped around something very not family-friendly.

 

"If I say yes, we're moving to a table," he coughs. "And you ain't touching my hair." He is a smart man, he recognizes his defeat when it's staring at him with two pairs of eyes on his face and nudging him out of his halfhearted squat in lazy urgency.

 

Standing back up makes his knees twinge, and okay, fuck, when did he get so _old_ , but Anna carefully grabs her polish and heads to the nearest table without much commentary. She doesn't dare put it down until Izumo has rooted around in the back for some sort of newspaper to lay over the top, but they sit down without complaint so Izumo holds his dominant left hand out first.

 

Sighing, he pushes his glasses into his hair and sets his head down on the bicep of his outstretched arm. Anna takes her time in carefully painting his pinkie finger first while Izumo's other hand rests on his thigh. Mikoto hasn't bothered getting up from the floor and instead shuffles his way to Izumo's chair.

 

There's a small scuffle, a few twitches, the sound of Mikoto accidentally bumping his elbow on the leg of the table, and then there's a head resting on his thigh near his hand.

 

Izumo doesn't even blink. He shifts his right hand clumsily over to Mikoto's face, then, upon realizing he doesn't want to fuck up Anna's... artistry on his hair, sets the hand down by Mikoto's throat. Two fingers find the King's pulse near his collarbones, pressing down for a half a second just to hear the huff against his arm. Izumo cracks a smile, loosens his grip, then curls his palm in the junction where Mikoto's neck ends and his chest begins. His thumb comes up to brush against the exposed skin of his King's neck with, dare Izumo say, practiced softness.

 

It's quiet, now. Yata has gone off to do patrols presumably (Izumo isn't sure when he felt the need to leave) and Rikio is nowhere in sight, with Tatara still off exploring. By the time Izumo has to hand over this other set of fingers, Mikoto has nodded off against his thigh, so Izumo slowly, slowly, slowly removes his thumb from Mikoto's neck and slides it across the table top.

 

With his right arm now outstretched, he sets his left hand over his bicep and shifts to get more comfortable on his arm. Mikoto grunts, like the lack of warmth at his neck disturbed his sleep, but Izumo doesn't much care; he lets Anna go through the process of painting his nails just as slowly as before, starting at the pinkie.

 

He lets his eyes close.

 

This is catastrophic for several reasons.

 

In the time where Izumo accidentally nods off, Tatara comes back with a camera slung over his neck and a bag hanging by his waist. In the time where it takes for him to process what's going on, the camera he's just purchased weighs heavy and unfamiliar in his hands, but he snaps exactly three pictures of Mikoto and Izumo passed out with Anna still fiddling with Izumo's nails. In the time that it takes for Tatara to let the little polaroid come to life in his fingers, he's already pinning them to the picture board by the bar counter and coming back for more.

 

Mikoto's hair is still half-pinned down, nails on display where his fingers are resting on his thighs. The part of his hair bunched up into a ponytail is going limp, but Mikoto almost looks peaceful in rest, and Tatara takes a second to snap two close ups of Mikoto's and Izumo's faces, respectively.

 

(Izumo looks like a man, a man, a man with no walls up and no glasses on and zero time to prepare for what Tatara is taking advantage of. If Mikoto were to witness this casual display of trust, Tatara dares to say that he might actually smile, maybe ask for his own picture, maybe take Izumo's glasses off of his head and set them by his hand.)

 

But Mikoto isn’t awake, and Anna finishes with Izumo's nails at the exact time Izumo's sleep-hazy brain processes exactly what those _clicks_ are.

**Author's Note:**

> come slam dunk my ass further into the anime filth bin at [castrumwritings](http://castrumwritings.tumblr.com/) on tumblr
> 
> comments/kudos are always appreciated B)


End file.
